The Grand Alliance
by Ruby the Troll
Summary: A fan fiction based on my horribly boring Pharmacology textbook. Read, and share my pain! Or laugh at it!
1. The Arrival of the Kings

This story is fan-fiction based on my painfully, horribly, dull pharmacology textbook. The tome is so overwhelmingly soporific that about the only way I can stand to open the thing and read, is on the pretext of researching a silly fan fiction. I mean, that book is _dull_. No, it's beyond dull… No, that still doesn't describe its effects…

That book is so impossibly, supremely boring that it actually has a bioactive, pharmacological effect. I'm not sure if the book should be classified as a Sedative-Hypnotic, or if the soporific effect could be called anti-adrenergic. (And if applied topically to the human skull, it also acts as an Anesthetic, hur hur hur.)

The posting of this story is also intended to be a public service, to provide a review board to anyone who might want to flame me.****

**The Grand Alliance**  
  
**Introduction:**  
  
All the free nations of Endolor had put aside their differences and united, the legions of Nilstat the Dark Lord were numberless and merciless, and even the headstrong kings of the west had come to realize that their choice lay between Alliance and death. It was barely a month after the conquest of Pravachol that the kings of many lands put aside their differences and traveled to Fiortal to make vows of Alliance, old feuds and grudges withered like grass in a fore before the terrible threat of Nilstat.  
  
On the first new moon of the spring the trumpets of Didronel High Elvenking of Fiortal announced the start of the first High Council session, and the Herald stepped forth to address the crowd.  
  
"Arise ye, lords of many lands, and salute the High Council, the Council of Kings gathered to fight the evil reign of Nilstat the Dark Lord, and his foul allies the tyrant-kings of Diocto and Lozol!  
  
"Hail ye, my lords, the chiefs of this council - High King Didronel of the Elves; also of the Elves Queen Luminol of Methylin Forest and King Sildenafil the Rhodis-by-the-Sea! Hail ye kings Ogen and Buspar of the Dwarves, who have put aside their people's long feud for this alliance! Hail Loestrin of Tolectin, greatest king of men, and his mighty sons Indameth and Indocid! Hail Pulmicort the Young, king of Delsym, who hath bravely broken his father's alliance with Nilstat the Evil to join our righteous Alliance! Hail ye Teldrin, Temodar, and Tessalon, warrior-kings of the nomads of Cenolate!"  
  
The herald droned on, as each king entered the Hall of Didronel as if he were the only monarch present; each secretly covering his fear and sense of unimportance with pomp and display of wealth. Extravagant greetings and cries of eternal friendship were exchanged, old feuds were proclaimed forgotten and recent slights forgiven; yet there were no smiles and no mortal eye lost its cold glitter of arrogance and personal ambition.  
  
Didronel Elf-King of Fiortal stood before his throne and accepted the greetings of each king he had called to Alliance, and while his beautiful Elvish face was clear and smiling, his heart was sad and afraid.  
  
Could these mortals truly put aside their differences? Could men and dwarves forget their prejudices, and truly unite? Could this group of arrogant monarchs truly form a High Council that would lead their massed armies to victory, or would it become a forum for the feuding and politicking?  
  
Could Didronel keep his fears from happening? He was leader of this Alliance in name only, he had no real authority except the good will he gained from calling the kings together.  
  
Were the free lands of Endolor as doomed as he feared?

Author's note: Believe it or not, this is more fun to read than the source material. Well, so is the owner's manual for my car, but how many fan-fiction writers can make that claim?

Please review, flame, whatever.


	2. The Young King

**Chapter 1 – The Young King**

King Cefdinir was young and newly crowned, his kingdom of Ancef small and obscure. At the reception of the Kings he had held his head high and worn his plain robes proudly before Didronel and the mighty of the world, but when he came to his chambers late after the reception of kings he seemed quite a different man.  
  
He put down his crown and doffed his chains of office, and instead took to his breast his infant daughter – Cefepime.  
  
"O daughter, what world have I brought thee to?" He whispered, holding her close and stroking her tiny face. "Cephradine my grandfather founded unto himself a kingdom, and in time left it to his son Cefotan. Cefotan my father in turn ruled wisely and Ancef knew peace, even when Cefotan died young and left rule to a son too young..."  
  
"Young you may be, O my husband, but unready you are not.' Queen Resyl was not yet twenty, but she a true queen, wise and knowing; her husband respected her as much as he loved her.  
  
"Is it wisdom to seek death, with no heir but a babe and she a girl? If I die, what will she face, an infant queen with the royal councilors to guide her in place of a father?" His wife made no answer, but embraced them both. "How will our neighbor King Coumadin deal with her if he live and I do not? Whenever our kinds meet, blood is shed, and so it has been since the foundation of my line.'  
  
"Yet he is here, and you are here, and both ye have sworn to fight Nilstat and not each other. Will ye prove false? Do you not trust me to guard mine own child?" Cefdinir hung his head, ashamed before the courage and wisdom of his young wife. "Do ye forget that if you do not unite against Nilstat, surely the Dark lord shall destroy ye both?"  
  
"Stand tall beside Coumadin thine ally, my husband, for if you do not stand together you shall both fall alone."  
  
Cefdinir drew his beloved young wife into a tender embrace.  
  
"Thy wisdom and bravery are great beyond thy years, and greatly beyond what thy weak husband deserves. I name thee steward of my kingdom during this war and Queen Regent to rule until the princess is grown if I do not return." He drew her in for a kiss. "And surely thou art queen of my heart besides."  
  
Their night was tender, for they were indeed king and queen, but also young lovers soon due to be parted, perhaps forever.

**Author's note**: Review, flame, spam, anything. This _is_ a sock account after all. 


	3. The Madwoman in the Attic

Chapter 2 – The Madwoman in the Attic 

High above the glowing marble chambers where the vows of Alliance had been sworn, was a small, dark, attic; its thick oaken door locked and bolted on the outside, its tiny windows barred. It was dark because its only inhabitant could not be trusted with a lamp or candle, and small because even though it was occupied by royalty, for its tennant had long since ceased to care about the trappings of rank.

A woman was there, standing alone by the window, looking down at the armored men and revelers in the courtyard below. Princess Zyprexa was not old, yet she was so strange and disheveled that at first sight many thought her so. Perhaps it was her pale, flying hair, perhaps it was the terrible distance in her eyes, perhaps it was the way she moved. She did not move with the grace of a young woman, but with the stiffness of age; she slowly shuffled flat-footed when she walked, her mouth and tongue worked constantly and silently, and her hands shook even when at rest. But she did not rest, she never rested save when sleep called her, but constantly stumbled from one part of her cell to another.

"Mine enemies have imprisoned me!" She cried to the silent walls, no-one in the courtyard below heard her cries amidst the uproar of celebration. "Curse you, thou Lords of Luvox and Tegretol, damn thee Lord Levo of Dopa, Lady Selegiline ye whore who stole my beloved, damn you all! May all the spirits and demons that torment me visit thee and thy children unto the hundredth generation!"

"Thou couldst not bear to see a new generation take power, for thou art enamoured of the old ways and could not bear to be supplanted – least of all as by one so atypical as my kindred!" Suddenly, she wept. "Where art thou, my dear ones, Clozapine my sister, Risperidol my cousin, Seroquel my servant, where art thou? Why hast thou left me to this lonely torment?"

In the courtyard below, music was heard, and shouts of laughter. Her face darkened with anger.

"I curse thee, Haldol of Stelazine, and thy vile jealousy! Thou could not bear to be supplanted, so in your wickedness you put a curse on me and now I am tormented by demons…" Her face grew vague and wild, and then showed terrible, sudden, pain and fear.

"Ai!" She cried, and clutched desperately at her stiff, painful back. "The final curse is come to me, I fall ill and there is no-one here to help!" She began to breathe rapidly, within her chest her heart pounded. "I burn with fever, please, someone, help me! Oh, I am lost for the demons, they have come for me! They torment my body, my back my legs, they seize on me and I cannot walk… the room spins, I am lost… oh, the pain… I am cursed, I am weak and cannot fight this disease… mine enemies have the victory…"

But for all she cried out, no-one came to help, for the servants who normally looked after her had joined in the celebration below. For a while she yet called, but not for long, for the sudden fever overcame her before the night was halfway through. Finally, her breathing slowed, and her heart ceased to pound… and Zyprexa, the Princess cursed with madness… had died.

Please review, or not.


	4. The Servants of Nilstat

Chapter 3– The Servants of Nilstat 

The evil wizard Vincristine stirred his foul cauldron and laughed, around him his evil colleagues laughed for reasons of their own. All were warlocks of great power, servants of the Dark Lord Nilstat, and they planned to defeat the Alliance even before the war began, by use of foul black magicks.

Vincristine added bitter herbs to the bubbling brew, foul water from deadly poison springs, and delicate periwinkle-blue flowers. A foul incantation passed his lips.

"Catharantus roseus!" He cried. "Vinca rosea! _Lochnera!_ _Bwahahahaa_!!!"

Behind and around him, his fellow Dark Wizards watched him, and each other. Chief among them were his three wicked brothers, Vinblastine, Vindesine, and Vinorelbine; and their cousins Docetaxel and Altretamine. They watched the other wizards who served Nilstat for they trusted them not; Melphalan of Alkylat, Topotecan who vanquished Kinase, Megestrol of The Curse, Cytarabine the Barren, all the most powerful and evil servants of Nilstat were there. One and all they hated Vincristine (even his kith and kin), feared him, and respected him, for he was the eldest and most famous of their order, although they disputed his claim of being the most powerful.

The cauldron gave forth a hideous yellow-green light that turned all the faces in the chamber sickly and hideous; quickly the light faded to a faint, deep, green glow.

"Behold the curse I have wrought," Said Vincristine quietly, his face aglow with green light and triumph. "The Alliance shall fall to me, even as it begins. None shall lift a blade against Nilstat! Victory is ours, is _mine_!" All around him, the wizards laughed and exchanged meaningful glances with each other.

"Their very blood and bones shall weaken." Continued Vincristine. "They shall grow wan and pale, they shall sicken as easily as a newborn babe or a dotard - the slightest illness shall overcome them! Their bowels will rebel, they shall be barren forevermore, their hair shall fall away and they shall weep to see their reflections!" Around him, the evil wizards laughed cruelly and heartily. "And those that do not sicken will weaken. They shall grow lame, their legs unable to bear them, their hands unable to hold a sword. The blood shall burn within their veins! They are vanquished! My curse has undone them all!"

The warlocks cried out as one, overcome with enthusiasm, cruelty, and ambition.

But their laughter was short-lived, for in their midst Letrozole the Woman-hater gasped and cried out. He coughed and his face grew damp as he burned with fever. His colleagues had little time to react, for in a trice they all fell ill and, one by one, began to die. All burned with fever; some coughed, some grew sores and blisters, some turned yellow with sickness, some vomited black blood. Soon, all died.

Far away in another warlock's tower, Aviron the Mighty looked into his scrying glass and smiled.

"Victory is ours!" He laughed, and about him the Wizards of the Order of Vaccinia smirked victoriously. "They thought to steal _our _glory, to smite our enemies themselves and win Nilstat's eternal favor! The fools, they thought only to attack the Alliance, and thought naught of protecting themselves from their own rivals. They have paid, they are dead and WE are Nilstat's favored order of wizards – especially now that we have proven ourselves mightier than they!"

The wizards laughed and congratulated her, caring more that they had overcome their chief rivals among their evil allies, and caring not that they had spared the Alliance to fight on against Nilstat, the Dark Lord whom both orders of wizards served.

For it is written that Evil Turns Upon Itself, and so it was this night; and the next morning the Grand Alliance went on with the business of preparing for war upon Nilstat, never realizing that that night, they had won a great victory.

**Author's note**: Review, flame, spam, e-mail me, whatever you please. It's true that this doesn't really make any sense and I'm posting this for personal reasons, but reviews would still be nice.


	5. The Dragon

**Disclaimer: Oh yeah, I didn't post one. But then I don't need to, there's no copyright violations or anything like.**

**Chapter 4: The Dragon**

The hall of Elf-King Didronel, Commander in Chief of the Grand Alliance, was grim. News had come that Nilstat the Dark Lord had sent a dragon to ravage the Southlands.

"Your Majesty, My Lords," The exhausted messenger had cried, "If ye send not aid we are all lost! The Dragon ravages all the lands, burning and laying waste! The people starve for their homes and crops are gone, we beg ye to send us aid and also food! Only food can ease our pain..."

The weary messenger staggered then, for he was hungry and thirsty as well as weary from travel.

"I will send aid, indeed." Said King Didronel, and the messenger smiled with desperate relief. "Tell me one thing, good human. This dragon, what is known of it?"

"Those few who have seen it and lived to tell the tale say is it of a deep red color, and spitteth a corrosive fire. It is as great as many houses, and destroyeth for the joy of it - all who hear his name tremble in fear of it!"

"His name, ye know his name?" Cried the court Wizard, who knew that many spells could be wrought against evil things if their name was known.

"Yes, my Lords, man who hid in the ruins of his home heard the wyrm speak his name, and related it ere he died."

"So tell us, man, what is the name!" Cried Lomotil the Slow, made uncharacteristically impatient by the dreadful news.

"The dragon's name..." The messenger winced, as if in remembered pain. "His name is...

"_Heliobacter_."

The entire court gasped in shock and recognition, for that same monster had plagued the Free Lands before.

"Stand before your King Didronel, O Knights of many lands!" Cried the herald, as King Didronel entered the hall and stood before the assembled knights. They had come to vie for the privilege of fighting the dragon, all the knights of the Alliance craved the right, for one and all they craved honor and glory. He who slew the Dragon Heliobacter would win immortal fame, and honor forever among his fellows!

"Let me go, your Majesty!" Cried Sir Mylicon of Simethicone. "Did I not defeat Borealis, the warlock who devastated the land with poison wind?"

"Nay, thou art has no defense against fire." Sneered Sir Carafate the Protector. "Whereas mine enchanted armor can resist flame! The dragon cannot hurt me!"

"Save with his poison, and his might." Said Tagamet the Upstart. "But I need not fear, I bear a turquoise that protecteth me from all poisons!"

"As do I, and I am mightier than thee by far." Said Prilosec the Strong, laying a fatherly hand on the young knight's armored shoulder. "Nay, young one, do not protest. Thou art young and slight, thy time will come - if thou livest to grow to thy full strength!"

"Are the young to be denied any chance to prove themselves?" Cried Tagamet's brother Axid. "That's so not fair!"

"If anyone should be denied a chance, it is Prilosec the Prick." Muttered Dilantin of Phenytoin to Prince Coumadin, for both were enemies of Prilosec. The great hall began to shimmer with the anger of the collected knights.

"All are equal to the eyes of danger," Soothed Pentothal the Peacemaker, and again the hall grew quiet. "All are given a chance to prove their might and wit, for those alone matter here. One at a time, please, tell his Majesty your name and why you should fight the dragon."

The knights did so, somewhat grudgingly. Still, it was clear that if they did not, fighting would break out in the hall. And while such a fight would certainly settle the question of who was the mightiest, it would also thin their ranks just as the war with Nilstat the Dark Lord was getting underway. Many more chances for glory lay ahead, so the knights were patient this day.

"I am Reglan of the Southlands, my home too is in danger. I shall hurry the dragon from the Southlands, send it on its way never to return."

"I am Colyte, and I shall draw it from the Southlands into the Wastelands beyond, nothing shall be left of it when I am done."

"I am Colace the Gentle, and I yearn for glory. Everyone takes me for granted."

"I am Nardil the Inhibitor. I am mighty and renowned, for I never turn back from quarrel. And I also give notice that if any of mine enemies here are sent and I am not, I shall withdraw from the Alliance!" A murmur ran though the hall, for it was thought that half the knights present might be considered Nardil's enemies.

"I am Biaxin of the Macrolides, ye all know my two brothers. We are dragon-fighters renowned, and we have fought Heliobacter the Negative before, and carried the day. Yes, he lives, but only because he turned and flew away and we could not follow. Send us, my Lord, for we are the greatest of all dragon fighters!"

"I am Bismuth the Forgotten." Said an old knight in rusted armor. "I know my glory days are over, that I am considered little better than a commoner now... but your Majesty, I beg you to send me. I have fought a dragon before, and not only lived to tell the tale but defeated it! I may be old and poor, but your Majesty, against this enemy I shall be mighty!"

"I am Pirenzepine, and while I am renowned as the enemy of Muscarine, I have also fought dragons in the past. My spells weaken their strength and dampen their fire, send me!"

"We are the brothers Amphogel and Gaviscon, and though we are poor and little better that peasants our familial magic is so strong and we are masters of fire, victors over it."

"I am Prevacid brother of Prilosec, and I have as much power over fire as he. And I wish to be as renowned as he - no, _more_ renowned."

"I am Cytotec the Wise, and while I cannot fight dragons per say, I have spells that will prevent them from coming in the first place. If anyone would like to discuss terms for protecting his lands, meet me in the antechamber."

And so on and so forth, one by one each knight or clan introduced themselves, stated their past victories, and begged for a chance at glory. Didronel the King listened solemnly to all, giving all equal attention; known dragon-fighters and callow youths alike. Finally the tale of knights was done, and the King withdrew to his chambers.

The next morning the throne room filled again with knights, eager now, rather than competitive, for they knew the king's mind was already made up and they need not strive against each other.

The trumpets blew, the herald cried forth, and the tall, handsome King entered and took his throne. All eyes were upon his august person, in eager tension. Who would be given the honor and peril of fighting this great firey beast? Would he know renown everlasting, or would he be defeated and forgotten as soon as another succeeded where he had failed?

"My Lords of many lands, ye knights of renown, I have made my decision." An excited murmur was heard.

"Who, my Lord," cried Ritalin the Quick. "Who shall he be?"

"Not he, my son, but they." Gasps were heard and smiles were seen as the knights realized their odds of being chosen had risen. "The journey to the Southlands is long and the dragon is swift and wily, it will take weeks to meet Heliobacter and defeat him. Therefore I shall not send one knight, for if he is defeated then the dragon will have weeks to plunder and ruin whilst another knight is sent!"

The whole hall was aglow with admiration for the king's wisdom. This was why he had been chosen to lead the Grand Alliance, his strategic mind.

"I shall send many knighs, and I expect them to cooperate with each other, and not strive against their fellows! Biaxin and thy brothers Amoxil and Flagyl! Stand forth! Thou shall fight another dragon, but shall not do so alone!

"Bismuth shall fight we, for he is still strong, and I shall send with thee Sir Prilosec and Axid the young, while thou engagest the dragon they shall use their magic to douse its poison and flame! But before all of ye shall Carafate the Protector, for indeed the dragon's fire cannot touch him!

"I have spoken." The King rose, tall and mighty. "Go forth, ye knights, and defeat the dragon, drive him from the Southlands! Bring peace and prosperity again to a starving land! And do not fail, for a great war comes to all lands, and if the dragon be not quickly defeated then terror and evil shall fall over all lands! Go ye, my knights_, go!"_

Please review.


	6. The Cursed Land

**Chapter 5 – The Accursed Land**

And it came to pass that a long-lived storm came from the Dark Lord's land of WHATEVER, and the looming, grey clouds brought with them a curse. The people grew gaunt and weak, they sickened and did not rise again. The Grand Alliance knew it did not fight alone, it counted on the peoples of the Free Lands to be strong and to resist Nilstat's evil with all their strength, yet their resistance vanished beneath the smothering grey clouds he sent.

The wizards of the Alliance studied the curse and threw against it every counter-curse they knew, but to no avail. The curse seemed to be of a magic of a kind unknown to them, one they could neither understand nor counter.

"Forgive us, my Lord," Said Oretic the Dry, chief Wizard of the court of King Didronel, "But we are no better off than we when we began. We know this magic exists, yet we cannot engage it for we cannot find it; indeed, we know not exactly what we seek! Your Majesty, I fear we are lost, that the plague will cover all the lands with sickness and malaise."

In the end it was not a wizard who found the answer to Nilstat's evil, but a humble monk. He was of an order that worshipped the Good Goddess Haart, but for the most part their prayers were given to the fighting of demons, not worship. The monks believed the demons aided and abetted the Evil Gods that brought all sickness and suffering into the world, that though each demon was tiny and insignificant in its own right, great curses such as Nilstat's could not be fulfilled without their aid. So by prayer and fasting they killed the demons and prevented the emergence of new ones; by their efforts much evil was spared the world.

So the monks of Zidovudine began to pray, and lo! Nearby those who had sickened began to strengthen! Light came to their eyes again, they rose from their beds and walked!

But so few, too few. The sick and weak were all throughout the land, the monks could not protect them all, for they were only a small order and weak compared to the might of Nilstat the Dark Lord.

Didronel was wise, and reasoned that if one small order or monks might have such an effect, might not several such orders do more? So he summoned all the monks of Haart unto him, and bade them all work together to banish Nilstat's curse from the land.

"Pray together?" Said the Abbot Zidovudine of the order of Nerti.. "But your majesty, they are heretics, we are at scism! We believe that prayers against Esatpircsnart King of Minor Demons are best made within the Nave, while they pray without! It is wrong, we cannot condone such shocking practices!"

"Dotard!" Cried Nevirapine, Abbot of the order of Neo-Nerti. "Haart herself has blessed our ways! You be no true worshipper if ye deny the Goddess herself!"

"Fie!" Cried Saquinavir, abbot of the third order. "I shame ye both in the name of the Goddess! The King of Demons is Protease , not Esatpircsnart! Ye pray against the wrong enemy!"

"Peace, gentle Abbots, as ye love thy Goddess and they people, peace!" Elvenking Didronel sighed, knowing how futile it could be to argue with humans over such subjects. "I beg thee, forget they quarrels over these issues and..." But he was drowned out as the three abbots and the assembled monks all began to argue.

But in another instant the quarrels ceased, for a gentle white light filled the candlelit chamber, and a disembodied voice, a female voice like music was heard.

"Put aside they differences, all ye my children!" Said the mysterious voice. "Love each other, love the people around thee! Use thy powers against Nilstat's plague, not against each other! Pray ye together until the curse is lifted, I charge thee!

The light faded and the voice was heard no more. Neither were quarrels heard, for the three orders of monks pledged to work together until the curse was ended. So dedicated were they that they even forbore to debate the deeper meaning of the Goddess's words among themselves, until the crisis was past.

"Master Oretic, do you think they'll believe it?" The Sorcerer's apprentice whispered, on a hidden balcony overlooking the chamber.

"If they don't, they won't dare say so." Replied Oretic the Dry, chief Wizard of Didronel's court. "Their love of their goddess is too strong, as is their desire to be more in her favor than their fellows. They will never admit their goddess did not speak directly to them, and before the king."

"Was it right, Sir, to imitate a Goddess? The Gods are jealous, and their wroth when angered is great."

"Was it right? I think so, young apprentice. Aught which harmeth none and endeth Nilstat's curse cannot be too objectionable. And as for the Gods..." The old wizard suddenly looked tired and old. "I will answer directly to them, before too long. This war will be long and fierce, and I, I shall not survive it."

"Master, no!"

"It will come to you, my child, the foresight. .It will come when needed most, when it comes ye must know how to act. Come, let us seek our tower, and resume the fight against Nilstat!"

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